


Fathoms

by nerdy-flower (baconnegg)



Series: Scenes from a Sunny Winter Town [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid Sanji, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I wanted more Yasopp/Banchina fic because they're real cute like dang, It gets sad but there's a lot of happiness too, Loss of Parent(s), Multi, Parent-Child Relationship, Slice of Life, Somehow a fic spanning 30 years is shorter than a fic spanning 7 years, Trans male Usopp, good job me, lots of talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconnegg/pseuds/nerdy-flower
Summary: Yasopp and Banchina: How they met, how they lived, and how life went on after. (Almost titled The Origin of Usopp, but I resisted)Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.





	Fathoms

**Author's Note:**

> Quick warning for non-graphic discussions of death and the grieving process, if you're not up to that today, feel free to click away, I totally get it. 
> 
> Also a note re: pronouns. My headcanon for Usopp in this 'verse is that he was DFAB and went by feminine pronouns until his early teens where he discovered that trans was a thing that people could be and started his transition (Still felt very weird to write him with she/her pronouns). Sanji goes by masculine pronouns at the time he makes an appearance (Poor baby only gets a few lines this time, sorry Sanji).

_“Fathoms, now standardized at six feet, were originally determined by ‘the length of a man’s arms around the object of his affections.’” - Baggywrinkles #4,_ Lucy Bellwood 

*** 

The streets are flooded with students, big chatty groups he has to weave around as he runs. It’s only been a couple years since he was here, but he swears the signs got switched. Or maybe Shanks gave him bad directions on purpose, the jerk. 

He knows where they’re supposed to meet. He just doesn’t remember how to get there from where he is. Stay with the ship an extra day, he said. We’ll go ahead and you can meet us there, he said. Now he’s got less than thirty minutes before they get on a bus out to the middle of nowhere and leave him with no way to catch up. Oh, Shanks was definitely getting an ass-kicking for this one.

He spots a familiar-looking church spire from a few streets away and his internal compass clicks back into place. He runs faster, not wanting to get sidetracked and miss them when he’s this close. He rounds the corner, the contents of his backpack rustling and clanking behind him as he pushes off the curb- 

And slams full-tilt into some poor, unsuspecting bystander, launching them backwards into a warm and mucky puddle from yesterday’s rain. He sputters, pushing himself up to apologize, and finds himself at the end of a long nose and an enraged scowl. Both features belong to a lovely girl, along with the previously crisp white uniform now hanging mud-soaked on her frame, and the notebooks spilling out of her bag between them. 

“Don’t you know enough to look where you’re going?!” She tears into him before he can apologize further. She continues for several minutes, applying a variety of colourful names to his intelligence and character as he hurries to help her up and rescue her things. She accepts the muddy pile with further indignation. “Great, now I’ll have to copy all these notes again! What are you in such a hurry for, anyway?” 

“I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry. Honest, Miss, I didn’t mean to-“ He hears Shanks call his name and bites back a curse, digging into his pocket and handing her a wad of bills. “Here, buy some new books and a uniform on me. I am so sorry, I-I have to go. Sorry again! Really sorry!” 

Shanks laughs and laughs, even when Yasopp takes a few swings at him. He spends the bus ride out to the nature reserve recalling the girl’s face and wincing at the disgust in her expression, unable to nap as the others are. Some luck he had, honestly. 

*** 

Having her birthday land on a Friday is usually a blessing for Banchina, since it’s always around mid-term exams, but luck wasn’t on her side this year. 

“I’m so sorry,” Adiela wheezes, snatching a hanky out of her uniform pocket and hacking wetly into it. “But I really need to take this weekend and get better, I need to-“ 

“You don’t need to be sorry.” Banchina tuts, pressing the back of her hand to her classmate’s forehead and frowning at the low heat she feels there. She hopes she doesn’t catch it next. With her asthma, she can’t afford to. “Go home and rest, you poor thing. I’ll bring you the homework if you’re not better by Monday.” 

“I will be.” Adiela insists, her low voice gone reedy and her normally sparkling eyes watering from a full day of punctuating their lectures with coughs and sneezes. “But thanks, you’re the best.”

Banchina doesn’t let herself frown until her friend steps onto the bus to go home. It wasn’t Adiela’s fault, but she’d been so looking forward to the weekend they’d planned together. Now she’d be going home to nothing but more studying, maybe some television. They might give her a gift early, but time away from her aunt and uncle was her preferred gift. 

She shakes her head and starts walking vaguely in the direction of home, fingers dampening around the handle of her bookbag in the heavy February heat. It was at least a half-hour drive, but she didn’t feel like getting on a mini-bus yet, and it wasn’t like they expected her home. Maybe she could go to the cinema, treat herself to a movie? But then when she did get home, she’d have to explain where she was and she would get one lecture for spending money frivolously, another for her choice of film (no matter which one she picked, there was some wrong to be found with it), one for staying out late like an irresponsible child, and alone for that matter… 

She’s not often kind to them in her thoughts, and it pains her. She wants to be grateful to them for looking after her, but they find fault with every little thing she does. Her grades are never quite high enough, her chores never done quite correctly, and of course, it’s all because she’s ungrateful and selfish and doesn’t appreciate them enough. 

She considers stopping at the bank, the money from that clumsy young man hidden inside an empty pill bottle in her bag. But it doesn’t feel like hers. A hundred and fifty rand was probably more than a week’s pay for him, whoever he was. Him not getting to eat because he accidentally knocked her over? Her anger wasn’t worth that. Her family wasn’t well-off, but she’d never had to skip a meal. Her aunt and uncle were right in that respect, she is very lucky. 

So lucky that she glances across the street and spots, as if summoned, a familiar weighty pack on a more painfully familiar lanky body. 

He seems alarmed when she runs up, visibly bracing himself for a second verbal thrashing. He’s dressed in faded jeans and a blue shirt with holes in the collar, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and showing off the muscle he carries in his slim forearms. “Here, you have to take this back, I can’t accept it. I’m sorry for being so angry, I’d just had a very bad day and well- being run over didn’t exactly make it better.” 

“No need for an apology, Miss. It was entirely my fault, after all.” He chuckles, fidgeting with his straps, and she finally gets a proper look at him. He really is young, could even pass for a secondary school student. On the shorter side for a man, black curls pulled back from a not-unhandsome face by a wide orange bandana. The pack seems to sit heavy on his shoulders. A drifter, maybe? But not with that much money, unless he’d stolen it. “You’re a student, right? I bet those books were some expensive to replace.” 

“The notebooks were cheap, and everything else got washed.” She pushes the wad of bills at him more insistently. “Please, I can’t take your money. You can’t go hungry on my behalf.” 

“Go hungry? Hah! Not as long as Roo’s around!” The man laughs heartily and pushes her hand back, oddly gentle. The smile stays on his face, merry and as bright as the sun. “Appreciate the concern, Miss. I know I look rough, but I’m here on a job. I won’t be starving any time soon.” 

Banchina finds herself smiling back. “And I don’t need this money to replace my things, so what are we supposed to do with it?” 

He shrugs, an air of genuine ease about him. “Pretty girls deserve pocket money. Spend it on yourself.” 

Banchina scoffs. “Enough of that. You earned this and I’m not taking it from you, it’s not right.” 

“And I can’t accept it back, so we’re in a spot of trouble, aren’t we?” Yasopp clicks his tongue, grinning still and looking at the bills pinched between her fingers, “What if I bought you an apology meal? Ruined books or no, I knocked you flying and that merits some kind of compensation, I think.” 

She shoots him an incredulous look, but he’s not leering the way some men do. He’s got his hands jammed in his pockets and is shifting from foot to foot like a little kid. “You don’t even know my name.” 

“I would if you told it to me.” His grin widens. “Mine’s Yasopp, it’s a pleasure to run into you again, less literally this time.” 

“Banchina.” She takes his hand politely, watching him with skepticism. “And when might you be free for this apology meal?” 

Yasopp hums, thinking for a moment. “Is now too soon?” 

Banchina goes to say that yes, of course it is, that she should just say no anyway because her aunt and uncle would never permit it. A date with a complete stranger? She’d have more luck asking to join the French Foreign Legion. But then, as far as they know she’s with Adiela on the other side of the city for the night. Saying yes means a night of total freedom, of being able to breathe without criticism, and Yasopp seems reasonably entertaining, marginally cute, even. “Not at all.” 

Yasopp’s face brightens tenfold, and he makes a grand show of offering her his arm. “Show me where you’d like to go, then, Banchina. I’m all yours.”

She takes him to a cheap, but edible diner she patronizes with her classmates when they can pull their pocket change together. She learns that the red-haired man who’d been shouting after him is a renowned photographer, amateur explorer, and his captain, amongst other things. The others are his crew members. Yasopp is the ship mechanic, recruited by Shanks from this city not two years ago, and quite the talker besides. 

“So what kind of ship is it?” Banchina asks, interrupting a tale about snakes in the Peruvian jungle that had swerved into fictional territory. “Like a cruise ship? 

“Oh, god no.” Yasopp chuckles, folding his arms and resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “It’s a tall ship- a copy of one of the old pirate vessels, sails and all. Got an engine in it, of course. Shanks inherited it from somebody and now it’s his trademark. That’s his thing, rich people and magazines throw money at him just because they think eccentricity means genius. I mean, he’s good n’ all, but not because he’s a weirdo. That’s just what sells.” 

“Hah, how cool!” Banchina replies with a laugh, genuinely impressed for the first time in a few paragraphs. “So you all just sail around with him, all the time?” 

“That’s right!” Yasopp picks up a few fries, driving them into his ketchup. “We’ve all got our roots in different places, but we end up damn near everywhere.” He tosses the fries into his mouth and swallows before continuing. “Like we’re here for a few months this time, he’s doing some long journalism piece for- somebody, I don’t remember. I just keep the ship going and shoot anything that tries to eat him.” 

Banchina chuckles, though she’s a drawing blank beyond storybook images. “What’s that like, living at sea? I can’t picture it.” 

“A little crazy, but Shanks’ kind of crazy is contagious.” Yasopp grins across the table, his gaze dropping off to the side. “When you’re out there on the open ocean- I can’t even describe it. You feel so small, and at the same time completely free, like you’re sitting in the lap of the world. You just point the ship where you want to go and you go. When you get bored of wherever you’ve landed, you pack up and go back to it. I was restless as hell when I was here, always moving from place to place looking for something, ran into limits wherever I went. Ended up on the ship by happy coincidence.” 

“And have you found it, out there on the sea?” 

Yasopp regards her for a moment, his slow smile making her shift in her seat. “I think it’s more that I’ve gotten to enjoy looking for it. Now that I have the option to go and do what I please, that makes all the difference.” 

“Must be nice.” Banchina replies, her voice unintentionally cold as she sips her drink. 

Yasopp tilts his head a little, as if examining her more closely, then laughs. “Talked your damn ear off, haven’t I? Why don’t you tell me about yourself now? I’ll do my best to shut up. No promises, though.” 

Banchina smiles, though it’s weak, because there’s nothing interesting, nothing worth sharing. She has a decent life, but an incredibly dull one. “What do you want to know?” 

“Whatever you’re willing to tell the weirdo you picked up on the side of the road.” Yasopp flashes her a grin, and Banchina wonders if his charismatic captain has rubbed off on him just a smidge. 

She keeps her family and home out of it for the most part. Luckily Yasopp seems oddly fascinated by her career choice and ability to rhyme off the scientific names of various organs. The hour grows late and the diner closes, and she suddenly realizes the corner she’s painted herself into. “Oh damn it, I can’t go home now! They’ll know I lied and that’ll be it for anything besides school. Augh, I should have thought this through.” 

“Damn,” Yasopp tuts, shifting in his worn-out boots. “Well, the only thing I can offer is the room where I’m staying- Not in that way- I don’t mean- you’re very pretty, I’m just not, trying to take advantage of you. At all, honest. And uh, this sounds really bad, but we’ll kinda have to sneak you in. My crew’s cool though, I promise. I’ll give you my bed- Er, again, not like that!” 

Banchina watches him flail, a bold smile creeping across her face and her fear dissipating as she lightly grabs his arm. “Let’s get going, it’s late.” 

Yasopp’s crew turns out to be spending the night in an old house repurposed into walkup flats. Yasopp has the converted attic to himself, while the others are doubled up and snoring on the main floor below. 

“Shanks knows the guy who owns it, I guess.” Yasopp whispers as they tiptoe up the frighteningly rickety wooden stairs. “Dunno where he is, but if he thought we were- you know, bringing girls in and out of here, he might assume the worst.”

The room is sparsely furnished, functional but not unwelcoming. Yasopp gives her the bed along one wall while he takes the sofa against the adjacent one. “Not quite the end to the evening you were expecting, eh? I’m surprised you agreed.” 

“Well, I don’t have another choice at the moment.” Banchina sets her bag down, stuffed with overnight things she won’t be using. The thoughtlessness of it all settles in as she beds down. “It’s- almost thrilling, though. I haven’t put so much as a toe out of line in years, and I get scolded all the time. Now I run off and spend the night with a strange man, and they’ll never think twice.” 

“Oi, if you think I’m strange you should meet my crew.” Yasopp teases lightly, stretching out on the couch and propping his head up to look at her. “Tell me more about your folks, they sound like a fun bunch.” 

She does, against her better judgement. The conversation loops endlessly, every time she thinks she’ll roll over and try to sleep, one of them seizes on a new topic and starts going again. He finds comedy in everything, his laughter chasing away all the shadows in her soul. Tiredness does not reach her, even when early morning comes. She feels light and unburdened, stretched out on the thin mattress as he’s propped on the arm of the couch, mere inches from her face. 

“You can remember all that off the top of your head?” Yasopp murmurs, after listening intently to the details of assisting with a minor abdominal surgery on her practical. “Damn, you’re smart. D’you have an extra brain in your leg or something?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Banchina giggles, feeling light and maybe a touch delirious as she reaches out to lightly smack his arm. “It’s not so impressive. You remember how all the parts of your ship work, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but when I’m fixing them, lives aren’t usually at stake. I can take my sweet time, look stuff up, buy new parts. You have to do everything on the fly.” Yasopp chuckles, pushing himself up more. He’s closer now, a hand’s breadth from where she leans on the metal post of the bed. “I think that’s amazing. Holding all that in your head and being able to whip it out and help somebody whenever you need to.” 

“Psh, there’s a million nurses out there, plenty of them better than me.” She scoffs, rolls her eyes, finding her gaze locking onto his again. He has terribly long eyelashes, she notices now. The long, pretty kind a lot of women pay good money for. “It’s nothing special.” 

“Well I think you’re- I think it’s really cool.” He smiles a little nervously, the early sun shining through the skylight and casting a ray of dust motes across the floor and onto his arm where it hangs down. 

They stare at each other quietly, Banchina’s eyes flicking downwards as he quickly licks his lips. “I should start heading home. I’ll have to think up some story so they don’t ask questions.” 

“Ah, yeah, right. I’ll walk you to the bus stop.” Yasopp sits up abruptly, grabbing for his boots. Banchina slips off to the bathroom, shoving her rumpled uniform next to the nightgown she never wore. She gives her teeth a quick scrub and throws on the flower-print sundress she’d meant to wear at her birthday dinner, the one that nips in at the waist and Adiela says suits her shape well. Yasopp’s standing at the door already, rocking on his heels and fiddling with his keys. 

“Sorry I don’t have any breakfast to offer you, Roo’s got all that downstairs, but maybe we could stop at that diner again and-“ He pauses, eyes lingering on her a moment too long before he looks away quickly and chuckles, reaching for the knob. 

“What’s so funny?” Banchina feels a slight burning in her cheeks and steps forward, holding the space next to him. The dress is a bit loud, yes, but she won’t tolerate being mocked. 

“Oh, nothing. Just- I might’ve kissed you, before.” His hand slackens on the knob, those kind eyes briefly meeting her gaze with almost-unbearable softness despite the tired redness in them. “Not the most gentlemanly thing, eh? Make all these promises, then try to put the moves on you. I’m sure you get that a lot, I mean, you’re so gorgeous-“ 

An impulsive day deserves an impulsive end. Banchina leans onto her tiptoes, ears burning fiercely and taking care to angle her obtrusive nose out of the way before pressing her lips chastely to his. He flinches in surprise, but presses back. It’s a momentary thing, but the warmth and tenderness and the close scent of him send an excited shiver through her as they pull apart. 

He looks at her with admiring eyes, that toothy, too-young smile slowly breaking across his face. “I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to make a habit of this sneaking out thing, could ya?” 

*** 

Luck is on her side again. Adiela is positively delighted to play the cover for a ‘secret love affair,’ as she calls it, so long as she gets full details of each date. Banchina’s aunt and uncle seem satisfied with her reinvigorated social life, given that her grades stay the same. Less time at home means fewer opportunities for arguments, and that’s a bonus for all of them. 

She doesn’t spend the night for a while, claiming dinner and trips to the park before returning home on the bus just before dark or actually going over to Adiela’s for the night, thought that means lots of chatter and little sleep. School keeps her busy and Yasopp’s job keeps him as well. But when they meet she’s relieved, and he’s always happy to share their latest adventure, often embellished and always told with great theatrical flair. 

One day, he meets her right after classes let out, mismatched features twisted into a scowl. She worries she’s erred in some way, made him tire of her, but instead he crosses his arms tightly and explains that they were spotted sneaking down the stairs by Roo, who told Benn, who told Shanks, who now is insisting they meet her over a drink, unless she’s not interested in that, which he would completely understand and he’ll be happy to tell them to get bent. 

He pouts adorably when she laughs, like an irritated little boy with his cheeks puffed out, and that only makes her laugh harder. 

Yasopp leads her through winding side-street after winding side-street, taking so many turns Banchina’s no longer sure where they are, until they come upon a bar that from the outside appears to define the term “hole in the wall.” It’s a little less scruffy on the inside, groups of all different people gathered and laughing at tables, minding their own business. A head of red hair crowned with an old straw hat leans out of the crowd and beams at them, calling over the noise. “Hey, Yasopp! You dying, or is that the mystery girl?” 

The pout returns and Banchina has to cover her mouth to muffle her giggles. 

Each man introduces himself in turn. Shanks is as baby-faced as Yasopp but for the scars over his left eye, dark jagged marks in his tawny skin. He’s loud and friendly, with a mile-wide smirk and a presence that seems to swell and electrify the air around them. Lucky Roo, a heavyset and welcoming man, shakes her hand firmly and teasingly inquires if she hit her head and shook a screw loose when Yasopp bowled her over, much to Yasopp’s visible chagrin. Benn, the only one without a permanent grin, seems intimidating but smiles slightly around his cigarette and warns her not to pay the other three any mind. 

If Yasopp was excitable before, he’s doubly so around his crewmates. The men throw back drinks like the morning after will never come, laughing and getting louder with each round. The bartender seems accustomed to them, watching them with a smile and a shake of his head. The music comes on at nine, and she ends up spun around the dance floor until she’s dizzy and doubled over with laughter. 

After her third or fourth beer, she stumbles and Yasopp catches her mid-step. His arms warm around her waist and his eyes full of such honest affection that she just has to kiss him, inviting a round of teasing shouts from the crew at Yasopp’s expense. She supposes they’re exaggerating a touch, he certainly doesn’t kiss like the untouched innocent they claim him to be. 

After much more laughter and one last round, the bar closes up for the night. The bartender turns out to be another friend of Shanks’, and soberly loads them into his car for the trip back to their temporary lodgings. Banchina feels relaxed down to her bones, properly worn out for the first time in ages, letting her eyes fall shut as she takes in the cool breeze from the car window. 

Shanks and Yasopp, under the impression she’s nodded off as Benn and Roo have, have a hushed conversation in a language she doesn’t recognize. Spanish, maybe? Shanks’ tone sounds serious, and Yasopp sounds a bit indignant. Whatever it is, it’s over by the time they reach the flats. Shanks nods at them, meeting eyes with Yasopp for a moment before stumbling off to bed. 

“Y’don’t have to stay.” Yasopp murmurs as they creep up the stairs. “Don’t feel obligated.” 

Banchina shakes her head, her hand threaded into his. “I never do, not with you.” 

The darkness of Yasopp’s flat is peaceful, and the quiet of the surrounding neighbourhood makes him lower his voice as he rambles a story of him and Shanks getting lost on their visit to Madagascar last year. The story rumbles through his chest, under Banchina’s ear, and she sighs, settling herself in the warmth of his arms as he strokes her hair, clipped short and frizzed from the humidity. 

“And then I heard this noise in the bush, so I decided to- ah, are you asleep, love?” 

“Nope,” Banchina says around a yawn, barely convincing herself. “Keep talking, finals are next week and I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you.” 

“Ah, right.” Yasopp’s voice sounds lower, and she feels his hands tense against her. “Shanks’ assignment is wrapping up in the next month or so, he says we’ll be off to Thailand for the next one.” 

“Oh.” Banchina blinks, trying not to sound surprised. She knew this was just a visit for him, it wasn’t his home anymore. The time limit had always been there. “Thailand sounds like fun.” 

“I might not go.” Yasopp says, his voice stiff and his arms tightening around her. “I know my cousins are still around here. If I look them up, I could find a job-“ 

“Oh for- Yasopp, you can’t be serious!” Banchina pushes herself up so she’s hovering over him, inches from his befuddled expression. “Don’t try and tie yourself here just for me, that’s stupid.” 

“But I am,” Yasopp insists. “Not stupid, that is. Serious. You’re- you’ve become important to me. If I leave, I’ll lose you. I don’t want that.” 

“No, you won’t,” Banchina pulls her lips thin, her heart rabbiting away in her chest. “Because I’m not staying here either.” 

Yasopp’s eyebrows jump up. “Eh? Where are you going?” 

Banchina lies down again, folding her arms over his chest and resting her chin on him so she can look at him. “An older girl from my neighbourhood finished nursing school a few years ago. She got a live-in job in Canada and once she’s done that for four years, she can stay there permanently and get any job she wants. She’s been helping me get everything ready and so long as I graduate, I can go.” She sighs, the tension seeping from her shoulders. “Don’t tell anyone, please, she’s the only one who knows.” 

“You have my word.” Yasopp says, his voice almost a whisper. A gentle, curious smile puts the ruddy hue back into his deep brown cheeks, his hands soft against her back. “Canada’s an awful long way from here, what’s got you running that far?” 

“My aunt and uncle hold every decision over my head, everyone else remembers me from when I was in diapers. All the expectations are smothering.” Banchina looks away, trying to find the shapes of objects in the dark room. “I need a fresh start, to build a life that’s just mine, do something out of the ordinary, like you have with your ship.” She shuts her eyes, the darkness wrapping around her like a sheath. “My friend’s last letter said she was moving in with a very pretty woman. Flirted with her in a coffee shop and took her home. No one there blinked, they didn’t care. That’s the kind of freedom I want.” 

“Oh.” Banchina quietly braces herself. Her clothes are within reach, she can leave and go running home, sneak through the back window. If anything happens on the way, she has a Swiss army knife in her purse, a parting gift from that girl. Yasopp merely sags a little beneath her. “Now that you mention it, we stop in Canada a lot, actually. Shanks has an old haunt on the East coast, there. Maybe I could pop in and say hello some time? Make sure you’re set up alright?” 

Banchina laughs, surprising herself, but it’s from sheer relief. Like popping your head above water after your lungs are already burning. “No, no, that’s not quite what I was getting at. I want freedom and you. I want you to go off on your adventures and when you can, come to see me, tell me all about them, stay as long as you’re able.” She draws in close, hiding her flushed cheeks because she hadn’t accounted for saying any of this aloud, it’s unplanned and sticky with sentimentality. “I want both of us to live the lives we want, and I want to be a part of yours.” 

Yasopp is stunned into perfect stillness under her. A rare moment that she savours, until he rasps a reply. “That…sounds like a lot of waiting on your part. Y’might be better off finding a nice Canadian girl after all.” 

“It’ll be a lot of waiting for both of us.” Banchina slides onto her side so they can look at each other again. “And maybe you’ll find some pretty girl in Australia or somewhere. Maybe we’ll have a fight next week and hate each other. But suppose we last that long, I-I’d like to try.” She takes his hand and clutches it, squeezing hard, her voice suddenly thick. “I only told you because I wanted you to know all sides of me. No one’s ever treated me the way you do, looked at me like- like I matter so much. I’m very selfish, you know, I don’t want to give that up.” 

“Oh, love.” His voice is rough, and so tender that her throat tightens as she accepts the kisses he drops across her cheeks. “I’ll come whenever I can. We can even go ogle some pretty girls together, if you want.” 

Banchina giggles, perhaps too loud, but he does that to her. Shakes all her cobwebs off and shines her up again. She happily accepts him rolling on top of her as they kiss, the heavy press of his body a now familiar and welcome weight against the softness of hers. Her hands find purchase in his hair as he laughs softly between their lips. 

“I think I’ll still stay, at least till you finish school. Meet up with the guys later.” He brushes a kiss over her forehead and grins brightly. “I want to get to know you even better, show you what a great catch I am.” 

“You can’t take six months off work,” Banchina tuts. “Won’t Shanks replace you?” 

“God no, it was his idea. He could probably run that ship by himself if he really wanted to. He just goes spare without anyone to listen to him yap.” Yasopp chuckles, kisses her nose and makes her frown. “I’ll find something to do till December, don’t you worry.” 

They share a deeper kiss, Banchina tasting traces of his rum from earlier. She must be glowing from her blush. Not even that girl, sweet and kind to her though she had been, had made such promises. Rearranged everything just to see her. Her voice is barely audible to her own ears. “I can’t believe you’d go to all that trouble just for me.” 

Yasopp chuckles against her lips, the curve of a smile against the corner of her mouth. “And I can’t believe you’re willing to wait around for my sorry hide, but here we are.” 

*** 

His crew leaves before June is out, bidding them farewell and promising to return. Yasopp’s able to keep the attic walkup for a while, and one of his cousins came through with a menial, but paying job at an auto shop. Shanks steals a peck off Banchina’s cheek before he leaves. “Take good care of him for us. Or don’t, I suppose that’s up to you.” 

“I’ll return him in two or three pieces, at most.” Banchina replies, laughing along with Shanks’ guffaws. Yasopp laughs too, but there’s an anxious sort of sadness knotting in his gut as he watches his friends drive in the direction of the coast. He’s far from irreplaceable, to them or anyone else. Banchina’s sweet kiss on his cheek lets him forget that for a while. 

They carry on much as they did before. Banchina goes to class, Yasopp works, Banchina lies and they slip off to their favourite spots. The bar Shanks had shown them quickly becomes their most frequent stop, especially when it hosts long, loud dances on weekends. One night, when her aunt and uncle are away visiting a friend’s new baby, Banchina gets reckless. Slips him through the streets after dark and over her back wall, through her window. She doesn’t even dare to turn the lights on, but the ease is plain in the rest of her shoulders. This room, now hers alone with her older cousins grown and gone, is her territory for the time being, and he’s an invited guest. 

“Quite the library you’ve got.” Yasopp admires the mismatched, sagging bookshelf in the corner beside her desk. 

Banchina joins him at the end of her bed, snuggling against his side, looking so cute and relaxed in her snug blue t-shirt and loose black slacks. “Years of accumulation. Most of them are from when I was younger. Some medical textbooks from my father, sketchbooks, all sorts.” 

“Sketchbooks?” 

“My mother was an artist, she encouraged me when I was small. But I haven’t had time to draw in ages.” Banchina stretches her fingers, knuckles cracking in memory. “I could probably pick it up again if I wanted to, after graduation.” 

“Mm, I could be your muse. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more attractive model. Unless you invested in a mirror, of course.” He kisses her neck and she giggles, slightly exasperated and utterly adorable, when his stubble scratches her skin. 

They pass several blissful hours, though her bed isn’t quite big enough for two, they make it work. He can’t keep his hands off of her, she teases more than once, and she’s right. He wants her to always smile like that, like nothing in the world could bother her. His sweet, bright, lovely girl. He doesn’t deserve her, not in the least, but he’d follow her to the South Pole just to keep her. 

She catches hold of his cheek, lifting him gently from his thoughts. He looks into her eyes and she’s _there,_ and he’s home. He takes her hand, kissing the palm, then her wrist, down her arm, tasting the salt of her sweat across every available plane of her soft skin, rich and dark like the La Palma beaches in the Canary Islands, where the Red Force had stopped for a rest not eight months ago. There’s a sweetness to her, like the first bite of fresh fruit on a hot day. He’s hooked, and he’ll never get enough of her as long as he lives. 

Banchina suddenly stiffens and sits up, as if zapped by an electrical shock. He doesn’t understand until he listens, hearing voices and the sound of shoes being kicked off. 

“They were supposed to stay the night!” She hisses, turning to him with wide eyes. “Clothes, now!” 

Yasopp’s never gotten dressed so fast in his life. The seconds melt by, every thump of feet and knock of elbows against furniture sounding like a small explosion. The window squeaks painfully when she opens it, thank goodness it’s only a one-story house. He’s halfway out, feet on the ground and nearly safe when Banchina’s aunt throws open the door, light from the hallway pouring in and casting them into the most painfully awkward tableaux. 

A lot of yelling ensues, as Banchina and Yasopp try to explain themselves at the same time, until Banchina’s uncle appears and Yasopp decides it’s better for everyone if he just makes a break for it. His mind races long after his legs stop going, through the night and into the next day. He’d left her with that mess. What would they do? They didn’t seem overly reasonable, but they wouldn’t hurt her, would they? 

His mouth and head are full of cotton at work, and he rushes back to his flat through the bitterly cold rain. A surprise winter thundershower had come, frigid and unwelcome. At least the sound is soothing, a Something in the worried silence of his flat. He eats dinner aimlessly and tries to head to bed early, without success. He ends up just lying back and letting the radio crackle away on low. 

Long past dark, he hears a heavy knock at the door. Grabbing his pistol on instinct, his thumb on the safety, he shuffles silently to look through the peephole. He puts the gun aside instantly, wrenching the door open and pulling a sopping wet Banchina inside. “The hell are you doing, woman? Don’t tell me you came all the way here alone!” 

“No one’s out causing trouble in this weather.” Banchina shivers, yanking her inhaler out of her pocket and puffing on it while Yasopp helps her out of her jacket. “I had to let you know I was okay. You really ought to have a phone here.” 

“Jeez, you could catch pneumonia or something.” Yasopp runs to grab a towel and drapes it over her head, rubbing the moisture out of her hair. “Did they kick you out? What happened?” 

“I got the longest talking-to of my entire life, and I’m effectively grounded. Can you imagine? Grounded, at twenty-three!” Banchina shivers again and starts unbuttoning her dress. “I mean, in their position I would have been angry too, but I wouldn’t have had to sneak around in the first place if there was the slightest chance of them accepting what I choose to do with my time!” 

Banchina yanks her dress over her head and hangs it on the coatrack with such fierceness Yasopp expects her to put a hole through it. “So, how’d you get here, then?” 

“Put pillows under my comforter and slipped out the window. I doubt they expected me to sneak out in this weather.” She drops onto the edge of his bed and rubs her face with an aggravated sigh. “So I can’t see you in the evenings anymore, unless I manage this again. But they can’t keep me from going to school. I’m too close to finishing. You’ll just have to come see me at lunch, when I’m not at the embassy. God, I can’t wait to get out of here.” 

`“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Yasopp kneels down in front of her as she fights to free herself from her soaked pantyhose. “I’ve been worried about you all day, felt like I threw you to the wolves.” 

“No, never. They respect my father too much to ever do that.” She peels the wet nylon from her feet with a repulsed expression, wiping rivulets of water from her forehead with her other hand. “Not so sure about you. You probably avoided a fate worse than death by running away.” 

“Always was good at getting out of trouble, almost as good as I was at getting into it.” Yasopp chuckles lowly. He puts his hand on her knee, rubbing when he feels how cold she is. “I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.” 

“Nothing for you to be sorry about, it’s them.” Banchina sighs, covering his hand with hers. “They don’t treat me like an adult. I try to talk to them about it and they say I’m spoiled.” 

“Aye, but they’re still your family, eh?” Yasopp draws himself up onto the bed, pulling her onto his lap and holding her tight. “Must hurt.” 

Banchina leans heavily onto him, quietly shivering at first, and he pulls the blanket up and over her. “It does. I wish it was different. That I could tell them about the things I want to do, bring you over for dinner, have them like you. My parents certainly would have.” 

Yasopp flushes, feeling self-centred. “You think so?” 

Banchina nods, nuzzling against his neck. “The memories come back in bits and pieces now, but I remember how kind my father was. Always so gentle with his patients and everyone, never even interrupted someone when they were talking. I remember less about my mother, I remember her a little stern, but sweet too. She would have liked you, I’m sure.” Her voice gets smaller by half. “Everything was easier when they were here.” 

“Oh, love.” He gathers her close, rubbing her back gently and kissing the damp crown of her head. “My strong girl. Not much longer now, eh? Just one more term.” 

“And it’s going to be the hardest one.” Banchina mumbles into his skin. He shudders as the cold from her seeps into him. “I’m worried, that something will go sideways and I’ll be stuck here.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to shanghai you if that happens.” Yasopp carefully lies back, pulling the blanket with him so they can curl around each other. “Smuggle you off somewhere nice. Iceland maybe, it’s a decent place. Not as icy as you’d think. Greenland, now, that’s icy as hell. I think there was a mix-up with those two. Someone got their wires crossed.” 

She laughs faintly, tucking herself under his chin, and he smiles. He kicks his trousers off and they cuddle and rest until she has to sneak out in the wee hours. The rain keeps on pouring outside, not touching the warmth between them. 

*** 

Finishing her exams at the top of her class and giving the appearance of civil obedience for a month (Unintentionally, she didn’t have time to even think of sneaking out with all the work piled on her) buys Banchina a little freedom the week before her graduation. She’s permitted to go out for a celebration with her classmates, which she of course conveniently leaves early so she can go give Yasopp the good news. 

“You did it, I knew you would!” Yasopp grins, clutching her transcript and immigration papers in his hands before loudly slapping the scratched wood of the counter. “Hey, two rum and cokes over here! On the double! We need to celebrate your ticket to freedom!” 

“Hush, don’t make a scene.” She sends a pained smile to the bartender as he drops off their drinks. “And I don’t have a literal ticket yet, I still have to buy one. Four years of sharing textbooks gone in one swoop.” 

“They’re not expecting you till the end of January right? Just come with us! Unless you’re opposed to a month at sea with us smelly menfolk, I would understand.” He raises his glass in toast, waiting for her to do the same. “To you, and all your hard work. You’ve earned this, love.” 

“Cheers.” She smiles and clinks their glasses, downing her drink in one go and hiccupping from the burn. “And I’ll think about it. Honestly, it doesn’t feel real yet, maybe it will when I get there.” 

“The shock of good news is the best kind.” Yasopp grins at her, his eyes glowing like the topaz in the jewelry store counter uptown. “We’ll have to stop and get you a snowsuit, it’s damned cold up there this time of year. We’ve gotten frozen into that bay on the East coast, more than once. Made us late for Shanks’ deadline one time. That was a goddamn pain.” 

“I bet.” Banchina rubs her thumb along the rim of her glass, making it squeak. “So you’ll probably have to head off after you dock there, I’m guessing.” 

“Yeah, but we’ll be there for a bit. Shanks has old friends there and likes to visit as long as he can. I can take you down and make sure you’re all fixed up in-“ Yasopp pauses, the alcohol visibly reaching his brain. “That place with the name that I totally remember, that one.” 

“Syrup Village.” Banchina replies with a grin. “Home to two thousand people and one cinema.” 

“Good God,” Yasopp laughs, wrapping an arm over her shoulder. “I hope these people you’re working for have television, or you’ll go stir-crazy.” 

“It might not be so bad.” Banchina props her head on one hand. “It’s probably nice and quiet. Lots of space, lots of nature.”

“If you can see it under all the snow.” Yasopp tips his glass at her. 

“They have other seasons.” She arches an eyebrow at him, her smile adding to the fuzzy warmth in her cheeks. “What did snow ever do to you?” 

“It’s cold and awful and I hate it, as should everyone else.” Yasopp folds his arms, looking like a petulant child yet again, then grins. “But I’ll brave frostbite, for you. That I can promise ya.” 

She smiles and shifts closer to him, taking in his warmth, his salty scent beneath the acrid cloud of smoke hanging over them. “I don’t doubt that.” 

“I know you don’t.” Fear flickers into his eye, though they stay locked on hers as he takes her hand and squeezes it, rubbing the fleshy pad of his thumb over her knuckles, hands steady as ever. “Though, I’d be willing to offer a better promise, if, uh, you were so inclined.” 

Her throat constricts suddenly. “Yasopp-“ 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a ring for you, not like you could really wear it right now. I can get you one later, if you’d like.” He mumbles, tightening his grip on her hand. “But the guy Shanks rented our flats from is a minister, and he’d be willing to get it done in a hurry so we could head down to Durban, y’know, dodge your aunt and uncle’s wrath and-“ 

Banchina touches a hand to her temple. “Did you just propose to me in a bar?” 

Yasopp swallows audibly, rubbing the back of his neck and talking a little too loud. “Yeah, not so romantic, huh? But my place isn’t much better, so I figured out of the two likely options-“ 

“Is this really what you want, Yasopp?” Banchina interrupts, feeling her stomach tie itself into knots. “Marriage, to me, is- a promise that I don’t want taken back later. I don’t want you asking me just because it’s expected, or something.” 

“No, that’s not why at all.” His voice is low and a touch frantic, though his grip on her hand is as gentle as ever. “You’re gonna be in this new place where you don’t know anybody, trying to make it on your own, I want you to have something better than ‘wish-you-were-here’ postcards, you know? You might be lonely, and I want you to know- I want you to know that you’re everything to me, and that I’ll always come back to you, no matter what.” He clears his throat, his voice cracking with nerves. “Not that I have any experience at it, but I’ll do what it takes to be a good husband to you. I want this to be a permanent promise.” 

It feels as if her heart is pumping pure electricity. Her hands are shaking, and the touch of his forehead against hers fills her with liquid warmth, nourishing and healing all the weakened bits inside her. She had never counted on being loved this way. 

Her voice sounds far away when she finally speaks. “Alright, though you didn’t bother to actually ask.” 

“Ah, sorry, love.” Yasopp laughs, his laughter over taking his words and bubbling out between them as he nearly vibrates with joy. “Marry me?” 

Her smile is so wide, it hurts her cheeks. “I will, absolutely.” 

Ten days later, her bag is packed, heavy with clothes and a few sentimental items. Her purse holds all her papers, her cards, anything important she can’t afford to let go of, with an umbrella hanging off the side. She had put on her pajamas and said good night to her aunt and uncle several hours ago, waiting until they retired to bed to change again and pack. At her desk, she smooths out the pale blue skirt of her graduation dress and takes out a sheet of lined paper, writing slowly in her best penmanship: 

_’Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t stay here any longer and you wouldn’t approve of where I’m going. I will send a letter from my new home so you know that I am safe.  
With love, Banchina’_

She sets a book on the edge of the note to act as a paperweight, hearing a faint tap at her window. Warm night air rushes in when she opens the curtains, and Yasopp steals a kiss off her lips. “Hurry, love, we have to get a move on.” 

They slink across the backyard like spies in an action movie, Yasopp boosting her over the back wall and following after with a pained grunt. They hold their breath, waiting for someone to come barreling after them, but they manage get out to the main road without so much as a dog barking. 

“Phew, halfway there.” Yasopp sets her suitcase down and tugs a small box from the side pocket of his pack. “Called in a favour from an old friend and got us these. Do you like them?” 

Two thick gold bands, gleaming faintly in the glow of the streetlight, rolling waves and a rising sun carved in shallow relief along the sides. “Oh, Yasopp! These must have cost-“ 

“The crew sends their congratulations early,” Yasopp dips down to accept another kiss. “Besides, you deserve something resembling a proper wedding.” 

“Ah, so that’s why you got all dressed up.” Banchina teases, tugging at the faded black tie knotted around the navy collared shirt he so frequently wears. 

“Hey, this is the best I could do on short notice! You’re not even wearing white!” His lips curve as his fingers dig into her sides, tickling her briefly before a loud clap of thunder cracks overhead and the skies open, soaking them instantly. “I retract that last remark. Also, we should probably start running.” 

*** 

With a harrowing journey to the coast now behind them, watching Banchina’s face light up at the sight of the docked Red Force makes Yasopp’s exhaustion fade instantly. 

“I thought you were exaggerating again.” She clutches his hand tight as they walk through the shipyard, ring pressing against his skin. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Aye, she’s something special.” He kisses her temple, smiling at her wide surveying eyes taking in every inch of the large, proud ship. “Welcome to my second home, love.” 

“There’s the happy couple!” Shanks crows, leaning over the side with a hand on his hat. “What’s the password, then?” 

“Kiss my ass!” Yasopp calls dryly in Shanks’ mother tongue, making his captain hoot with laughter as he lowers the ramp. 

Despite their fatigue, Shanks insists on leading them around on Banchina’s grand tour of the ship, finally stopping at the door to his cabin. “I’ve moved all my stuff in with Benn for the rest of the trip, so our lovely guest gets a more comfortable bed, and you can whisper sweet nothings in private.” He claps Yasopp on the shoulder. “You two catch some winks, Roo’ll fix you up something whenever you get hungry.” 

“No pranks?” Yasopp stares his friend down incredulously. 

“On my word, not even an alarm clock hidden under the bed.” Shanks holds his hand up with a smarmy grin. “Though the temptation was there, I assure you.” 

“Thanks, Cap.” He clasps his friend’s hand for a moment. “You’re too good to us.” 

“You really are,” Banchina adds. “I feel bad, kicking you out of your bed.” 

“Eh, don’t apologize to me, Benn’s the one who has to listen to me snore.” He smiles, smaller and kinder. “We’re heading out first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll throw you a proper party once we’re out on calm water. You two deserve it.” 

“You’re gonna love it,” Yasopp grins at- at his wife. God, it sounds almost too nice for him. “You might never wanna leave. Maybe you’ll become a vagabond ship’s nurse after all.” 

“Oh, and before I forget-“ Shanks snags Banchina’s chin with his finger and plants a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Kiss the bride for luck!” 

“Shanks, you bastard! Get back here!” Yasopp shouts as Shanks charges back above deck, crying out truimphantly. He shuts the door to the cabin behind them, trailing behind Banchina and grumbling. “That guy, I swear. He’s just the worst.” 

“I think he’s quite funny, actually,” Banchina giggles, setting her suitcase down while he drops his pack. “He must keep things entertaining on board.” 

“Yeah, you’re laughing now. Wait till you’ve had a month of it, you’ll be ready to pitch him over the side like the rest of us. Did I ever tell you about what he did when we were in Lima? ‘Cause-“ 

“Yasopp.” She interrupts, her back still to him. 

“Eh? What’s the matter?” 

She looks over at him and smiles, silently tapping her shoulder just beside the zipper of her dress. 

Yasopp snaps his mouth shut and nearly smacks himself for his own blatant stupidity, hurrying over to her. “Right.” 

*** 

The little town is accurate to her old friend’s letters. Small and unremarkable, but quiet. Aside from the elderly couple whom she works for, she might pass entire days without bothering or being bothered by anyone. Except when Yasopp comes to roost, filling her cozy basement quarters with warmth and laughter and stories, always stories. She keeps his letters close at hand in the in-between times, little tokens of excitement and familiarity when they’re apart. 

She meets all sorts of people at the supermarket, the library, the town’s only restaurant of note. A sweet young couple with a lovely house invite her for tea or dinner almost every week, though the wheeze-inducing climb to the top of the town’s steepest hill almost makes her dread the visits. The seasons turn and she remembers how to breathe. Her mind is unburdened, and her life and her days are her own. 

After another lengthy, hair-tearing set of immigration papers, she bids her employers a grateful farewell and takes a job at the local hospital. With her increased paycheque and Yasopp’s wire transfers, she sets herself up in a little bungalow. Barely bigger than a flat, really. But it’s all theirs. Their cups in the sink, their furniture assembled by her hands, their creaky swing on the porch. She’s never set up a full house before, and she misses what might have been helpful, desirable maternal guidance. Her doctor friends from up the hill come by with boxes of extra plates and linens and things from their attic, and when Yasopp returns, it finally feels like home. 

He’s half-asleep one night, on the phone with Shanks about something when she comes to bed. Curls grown back to their natural crisp gold and in a mess on his pillow, his arm reaching for her immediately as she slips under the thin sheet. Their skin dampens and sticks in the heavy late July humidity, despite the two fans going. Out of patience, she passes him the strip of plastic and awaits his reply. 

Moments later, the receiver slammed into its cradle and Yasopp’s arms tightly molded around her, the scratch of a breathless voice brushes against her neck. “Oh, love, how long?” 

“Three weeks, confirmed at the doctor’s today.” The test was worth the extra cost for the priceless look on his face. She carefully nudges him away from her aching, tingling breasts, and finds the amusing gape replaced by lines of fear. “What’s wrong? You said you wanted one...” 

“I do! Of course I do, but do you think-“ He swallows loudly, voice gone small. His palms press to her stomach, though there’s no roundness there yet. “Do you think a kid would want me as their dad?” 

“Of course they will.” She closes her hands on his arms, rubbing his sun and salt-roughened skin. “You’re wonderful, they’ll be lucky to be yours.” 

“I’ll be gone half the time.” He continues like an un-paused tape, staring down as if he didn’t hear her. “Maybe I should stay. I can’t let you do this by yourself-“ 

“No, no, none of that.” Banchina forces his chin back up. “You belong out there, Yasopp. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to give that up, any more than you’d ask me to quit my job. And besides, there’s nothing for you here.” 

“There’s you.” His hands tighten. “And this one now, too. I have to take care of both of you.” 

“We can take care of each other just fine, as we are. Do you think I didn’t think this far ahead?” She pulls him close so their foreheads are pressed together, her nose tucked a bit awkwardly against his cheek. “I want this one to grow up and live whatever life they want, just like we have, and it’ll take both of us to make that happen. You understand, don’t you?” 

“I do.” Yasopp mumbles, nuzzling against her, his voice barely audible. “Will it be enough?” 

“It’ll have to be.” Her lips turn down, the wobbling, bubbly feeling in her stomach returning. “Right now, we just need you to love us, and maybe be a little more excited?” 

“Oh, love, of course I am!” Yasopp pulls her onto his lap, kissing down her neck and startling a laugh out of her. His hands seem to go everywhere at once, as if his body can’t contain his excitement. “I want one that looks just like you, God, I bet you were one cute little kid. And I want them to be smart too, like you. That’s what I want, another little you.” 

“My uterus doesn’t operate on the same principles as a drive-thru speaker.” Banchina shakes her head, settling happily in his arms. “And what are they supposed to get from you, hm?” 

“My sparkling personality and dazzling sense of humour, _obviously_.” His grin turns cartoonish, an arch of teeth and eyebrows crowding her vision. She rolls her eyes and feigns at pushing him off. He laughs and kisses her, kisses her again. His laughter fills the room, chasing away both of their nerves. Only in the quiet hours afterwards, when he’s wrapped around her like she’s something precious, is he able to whisper the words of gratitude and praise that leave her flushed, but fearless. 

*** 

The nurses, Banchina’s coworkers, find the date unfortunate and a little amusing, but for Yasopp, April 1st is the day he met the best person in the whole world. 

Tiny, so impossibly small as to be held in Yasopp’s cupped hands like a bag of pearls. Tight curls like his, coloured a shade or two lighter than Banchina’s perfect black locks. Her nose, much to her discontent, already prominent if a bit squashed. Light ochre skin, with undertones of red from a lengthy trip out, sure to deepen in the sunlight. Arms and legs nearly as thin as his fingers, drawn up tight in the swaddling. Big doe eyes, filmy and grey-blue for now, peering up at him intently until they’re shut by a toothless pink yawn. 

“Dear, get some sleep.” Banchina mutters, her fingers secured fiercely tight around a tiny sock foot as she shifts position on the plastic hospital bed. “You’re going to need it.” 

Yasopp can only laugh and squeeze her hand, because how could he sleep now? Not with someone so remarkable in his arms, no way. 

The rareness of sleep makes the following weeks and months seem longer, which is much appreciated, even when he can barely lift himself out of bed. He trails behind Banchina like a shadow. Helping her to sit down and rest when she needs it, and get up when she insists. He jogs to and from his errands, not wanting to miss a moment. Banchina jokes that the poor dear will never learn to crawl with him around, and he just laughs and counts ten chubby fingers and ten nubby toes again and again. 

One night he comes back from a long supermarket trip, wearing two old sweatshirts and holding his breath when he swipes his card. He hurries the cold things into the fridge and finds Banchina idly enjoying a soccer game in the living room, her feet tucked underneath her and her pajama top pulled up, Usopp propped against her stomach and contentedly enjoying her dinner. 

He kisses her cheek and nuzzles her temple. “You want rice and beans for supper? I got some pork cutlets to go with it.” 

“Yes, please.” She smiles, dark circles prominent under her eyes but still gorgeous as hell. She kisses him back and dislodges Usopp from her comfortable perch atop her thigh. “Want to take burping duty on this one?” 

“Sure thing. C’mere, peanut.” Yasopp gathers her up and she wiggles in his arms, trying and failing to sit up on her own. He tucks her against his shoulder, inhaling the good baby smell from her head and patting her back. She gurgles happily, grabbing hold of his shirt with her sharp-nailed fists. His stomach knots. “I gotta go back soon. I’ve hit the end of the paternity money.” 

“I know.” Banchina unfolds herself, fitting against him and resting her cheek on his other shoulder. “Merry said he doesn’t mind looking after Usopp as well when I go back to work. He insisted he wouldn’t charge me, but I won’t accept that.” 

“And you always get your way in the end, don’t you?” Yasopp kisses her forehead, enjoying the warmth of her seeping through his chilled clothes. Usopp babbles as he pats a little harder, trying to coax the gas out. “Leaving this time is really gonna be hell. What if she forgets who I am?” 

“She won’t,” Banchina tuts, sighing against him. “She’ll remember your smell if nothing else, right now all she cares about is-“ 

A small retching sound interrupts her as Yasopp feels something warm and wet spill over his collarbone. He presses his lips into a thin line and Banchina has to cover her mouth to hold back laughter. “Oh honey, I forgot the cloth. I’m s-so s-sorry.” 

“Yeah, you really sound like it.” He pouts, holding Usopp out in front of him while she chews on her hand. “And you, do you have to puke on me when I’m five feet through the door? I thought we moved past this. D’you think it’s funny to pick on your old man, huh?” 

Usopp removes her fist long enough to smile, six teeth gleaming proudly at him, and Yasopp starts counting the days until he’ll be home again. 

*** 

Banchina’s sitting at the kitchen table, feet up on another chair, a well-thumbed book laid out on its spine, and one eye on the grey clouds outside in case she has to rip the laundry off the line. She jumps up when a pair of familiar boots thump their way onto the porch and through the kitchen door. 

“Yasopp!” She cries as he drops his bags and pulls her into his arms, still wearing the confined smell of the train and the salt-spray of the sea. “How did you get here? I didn’t know you’d landed already!” 

“I hitchhiked from the station.” He grins, holding his hand up when she frowns. “I know, I know, but I really wanted to surprise ya.” 

“What would you have done if the house was empty?” She arches her eyebrows at him as he slides a hand into the snug back pocket of her jeans. 

“Get started on the terribly romantic dinner of falafel and cider I have planned for us, of course.” He grins again, kissing her firmly. His overgrown beardscruff scrapes against her upper lip and she catches herself sighing. 

“Are you trying to cook your way into my heart?” She teases, rubbing the firm planes of his back. 

“I don’t know, is it working?” He leers as they share another brief kiss, before a few crashes and a rapid pounding noise approaches from the other end of the house. 

“Sounds like a herd of turtles.” Banchina notes with amusement, backing away a few steps so that the tiny ball of energy can launch itself full-force at Yasopp’s shins, a loose overall strap swinging around and snapping against his calf. 

“DAD!” Usopp crows, for the tenth or twelfth time that minute, big eyes shining up at him. “YOU’RE BACK! Where did you go? Did you bring us anything? Did Mom tell you about my report card? Me and Kaya dug a really big hole in the backyard, do you wanna see it?” 

“Whoa, slow down, peanut!” He lifts the small girl onto the kitchen chair, her bare toes curling over the edge as he kneels and hooks her brace back on. “Almost ran out of your clothes, there.” 

“I missed you!” Usopp throws her wee arms around his neck and Yasopp scoops her up, face buried in the wild curls barely contained by her yellow headband. Banchina smiles fondly from over his shoulder, which sags not from weariness but from a need deeply met. 

Usopp leans back suddenly, face still shining and trusting that he’ll catch her abruptly unbalanced weight. “How long can you stay this time?” 

The corner of Yasopp’s smile twitches. “Till you go off on summer vacation, thereabouts.” 

“That’s awesome!” Usopp hugs him again, aware that it’s already mid-May but too young for that time to measure as short. “Can we go to the park later? I found some really cool frogs there yesterday!” 

“Sure, we can go anywhere ya want.” He kisses her forehead just as her stomach growls, and she giggles. “Sounds like you need some dinner first, wanna help me cook?” 

“Yes! I’m the best at helping! I am the champion of helping!” 

“When you’re not sneaking bites of everything.” Banchina lifts Usopp into her arms, giving her an affectionate squeeze and setting her down. “I’ll show Dad your report card while you go wash your hands.” 

“Aw, but Mom, I didn’t touch anything germy today!” Usopp whines, putting on an exaggerated frown. 

“Everything is germy. Go on, now. And don’t climb on the counter, use the stool.” She smiles again as the little one hurries towards the bathroom, eager to get the indignity of proper handwashing over with as quickly as possible. She unclips the crumpled paper from its spot on the fridge and hands it to her husband, his arm reattaching itself to her waist. “They had to separate her and Kaya so they’d stop chatting in class, but otherwise she still loves school. I’m sure she’ll have lots to tell you.” 

“They grade kindergartners now?” Yasopp frowns, nevertheless reading the report with pride. “Jeez, maybe I should go back and get my Grade 12 before she beats me to it.” 

“You could always have her tutor you,” Banchina jokes, leaning her head on Yasopp’s shoulder. “It’s so good to see you. You don’t have to make dinner, you just got here. You should rest.” 

“Psht! I’ve been on a train for damn near twenty-four hours, I could run a marathon right now! Besides, it’s your turn to go off-duty.” He kisses her again, gentler this time, then makes her chuckle when he kisses her nose. His boyish eyes, always too youthful and wrong for his face but still terribly handsome, turn a little sad. “I want to make things easier for ya when I can.” 

“You do,” Banchina smiles as Usopp rushes back in and starfishes herself to their legs. The responsibility-free life she’d quietly planned for herself years ago, the exciting thought of being alone in a big, sleepless foreign city, now comes up completely short. She’s found a blissful peace that withstands his absence, that gives her the strength to carry their baby off to bed when she’s exhausted after a week of overtime, that makes every stretch and sacrifice worth it. It’s a fuller life than she thought she could ever have. “You always do.” 

*** 

Yasopp will say he prefers being home and mean it, but he gets bored. In spite of his better judgement, he gets skin-itchingly, wall-climbingly, sleeplessly bored. Even if Banchina hadn’t settled in a town with hardly anything more than a bunch of old buildings and a big forest on the North end (it’s probably the best and safest place to bring up a curious little kid like Usopp, but seriously, the place doesn’t even have a beach), he would still get bored. Seeing the same things day in and day out, doing the same work every single day with a few holidays sprinkled in between for years on end, he doesn’t know how Banchina stands it, how anyone can. There’s so much more out there and so little time to see all of it. 

But then, he has the option. The option to chase a crazy man and fix an old ship and follow money to nearly any part of the world. It lets him provide, lets him save up for the good life Usopp deserves, and lets him burn the fire in his skin down to embers so when he’s home, he’s completely home. They deserve his full attention, not the distracted acknowledgement of a man in love with dreams he stopped chasing. 

But the loneliness still hurts. The missed events, sleeping single next to the symphony of Roo’s sleep-talking instead of in warm, welcoming arms, the inches gained and teeth lost every time he leaves. It throbs like a toothache. That’s why he’s so glad when they get sent to places with functional telephones. Faceless conversations aren’t enough, but they’re isopropyl on an open wound. The best option for the time being. 

“What time is it there?” He asks early one morning, their ship docked at Praslin Island so Shanks can document some rare species of something for someone who’s interested in it for some reason and is paying some sizeable amount for it. He’s watched the sun rise and the sea birds fly out, his focus on catching Banchina up on their latest adventures and hearing as much about her and Usopp as he can. 

“Nine-thirty, I think-“ Banchina breaks off into a lengthy coughing streak. “God, this cold. It just won’t let go.” 

“Maybe you should go to the doctor.” He frowns, picking the dirt from under his nails. “You might have pneumonia or something.” 

“I don’t have pneumonia.” She scoffs, proud though her voice is raspy. “And I’m not missing a shift so I can sit in a waiting room for three hours just to be told to take more vitamin C. We’re working short-staffed as it is.” 

“Well, I guess you’re the expert.” He sighs, turning and resting his hip against the railing. Shanks and the others would be waking up soon, and it’d be another full day of bushwhacking, for sure. “Is it cold up there?” 

“Freezing. We had another ice storm a few days ago and I had to chisel myself out of the driveway. Winter’s holding strong this year.” She pauses to cough again, a smile entering her voice. “Are you asking so you can brag? I bet you’re on the beach right now, aren’t you?” 

“Hey, to be fair, I’m not physically on the beach, I’m just in walking distance of it.” He laughs, toying with the cord of the phone. “I’ll be up as soon I can. Tell the warm weather to get there before I do.” 

“I’ll send your complaints to the weather channel.” She giggles thinly, then goes quiet for a while. “I miss you.” 

His heart aches in his chest, though his smile remains. “I miss you too, love. Take care of yourself and go easy, eh? Don’t overdo it, now.” 

“I’ll try.” She sighs, her voice a curl of warmth against his ear. “Good night, dear- or good morning, I guess.” 

“Good night, love. Talk soon.” He reluctantly hangs up, stretches, and hooks the phone base under his finger, following the power cord back into the main room of the cabana-type house they’d rented. Not long now, and time seems to go by quicker when he’s keeping Shanks out of trouble, anyway. 

*** 

It was only a cold. 

She was healthy, at least- he’d thought she was. She worked too hard, but then, didn’t everybody? 

They’d been radioed after they were already out to sea, how long it took the doctors to get through to him he didn’t know, didn’t want to think. Shanks arranged an airlift to shore and a plane ticket from there and he ran, through the airports, from the train station, gone as fast as he possibly could and it wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t... 

She’d been alone. How could he have let that happen? Why didn’t he know? Why didn’t he insist she go get a throat swab, or something? The doctor, in an uncomfortable, saddened tone, had informed him of the abscesses in her lungs, the long-named bacteria that might have caused it, and then quietly asked if he’d like to see her. He refused on the excuse that Usopp, beside herself, was being sick in a wastebasket in the other room while Kaya’s mother was taking a break from her own patients to look after her. He needed to take her home, see to her. 

In reality, he was just a fucking coward. 

He spends the first few nights in Usopp’s toddler bed, the poor kid barely speaking and only dropping off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion. He made dinner- No, wait, did he? They ate, so he must have. Kaya’s parents came over frequently. At least, he thinks so. Maybe they brought the food. 

He finally enters their room when the paperwork’s been sorted out, arrangements made. The funeral home wants something for her to wear. Okay, he can do that. He puts Usopp to bed first and goes in, straightening up the knocked-over knick-knacks and the pulled-back sheets left in the wake of the paramedics. Banchina had disliked funerals, he remembered that. Told him she wanted whatever was easiest to give the living some closure. 

He pulls a shirt out of the closet, a pretty light green, a little fancy. For a New Year’s Party, maybe? No, Easter, the year Usopp was old enough to go to the egg hunt. But it’s been worn more recently, her familiar scent is there, mixed with the faint fragrance of her preferred laundry soap, rising up as sure as if she was still standing right in front of him. 

He crumples, collapsing back onto the bed and clutching the shirt to his face, hanger and all. Heaving and shaking and trying not to sob too loudly. He lets himself fall towards the pillows, on her side, in their bed. Can’t let Usopp find him like this but oh God, oh God- he can only hope her passing was nowhere near this painful. He used to say he’d rather go first, when they were old and grey, so that she might have more life than him. But what an awful thing to wish on her. On anyone. The pain is deeper than any injury he’s ever received, more visceral than any illness. The unfair, overwhelming wrongness of his life stretching out far past the end of hers drags him below the surface and strangles him. 

He comes to somewhat at the funeral. Banchina had asked for a closed casket and a simple, unfinished coffin, though it sticks out among the velvet trappings of the crowd at her grave. “For God’s sakes, don’t let them do that to me.” She had commented in disgust one night while they watched some disconcerting forensics show that involved a description of embalming. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, however it goes. I want to go back to dust as quickly as possible.” 

“Suppose you’re buried beside a tree, though.” He had joked with now-painful morbidity. “What if your dust goes up through the roots and you become part of the tree?” 

“I wouldn’t mind that,” She replied, resting her full bowl of ice cream on her swollen belly and still managing to eat despite the grotesque narration. “Just make sure it’s a nice tree. I don’t want to turn into crabapples.” 

The minister drones on interminably, Yasopp not listening to a word. Usopp sits in the folding chair beside him, in a crinkly black dress she’d been bribed into that morning, feet dangling and her small hand tightly clasped in Kaya’s thin one. They all stare straight ahead, at the hole into which they’ll soon be lowering the coffin. There is a tree, at least. Just a sapling, a way in back of the headstone. Hopefully it’s a nice one. 

The service ends and people disperse into groups, continuously coming up and patting him on the shoulder before they go. Oh, Yasopp, we’re so sorry. She was so young, it’s not right. She was wonderful, so kind, so selfless. As if he didn’t know, better than any of them ever would. 

Maybe that wasn’t fair, they were trying to help, and her friends had every right to miss her. She was worth it. God, she was so, so worth it. 

Kaya’s parents don’t approach him till everyone else is gone. Their daughter curled up with Usopp a few yards away, hands pulling at the brown grass and heads bent in intense conversation, with Merry keeping a close eye on them both. Their eyes are red and their voices choked, but they’re kind enough not to offer sympathy. They’re both doctors, maybe they’ve seen enough dead folks to know better. 

“We’ll look after her.” Her father insists from behind his round glasses. They’d already discussed it, it was what Banchina had wanted in case the worst happened, but he seems eager to assure Yasopp. “You’re always welcome in our home, we’ll keep a guest room for you. Call whenever you like.” 

“She’s a lovely girl, it won’t be any trouble.” Kaya’s mother adds, equally insistent, her knuckles white as she grips her silver necklace. “It’s the least we can do…” 

Finer details get discussed later. Yasopp has things to do, chores and obligations that must be put to rest. Sorting through her things is the worst, and he probably puts too much into waterproof storage boxes, to be kept in the mansion’s basement until Usopp’s old enough to pick out her own mementos. 

He goes into her room to talk to her one evening, before the realtor comes by and she notices something’s going on. Kids are clever that way. They know when you’re pulling the rug out from under them. She’s playing some pretend game with her plastic dolls and wands, imitating the voices from the cartoon. Each to their own comfort, he thinks, and sits down on the bed beside her. 

“Say, peanut, how would ya like to go stay at Kaya’s house?” 

“For a sleepover?” She asks dimly, absorbed in her toys. 

“Well, kinda.” He coughs, knowing it’s a weak offer. Paper-thin and no substitute for the familiar home they’d made here. “It would be like a sleepover every day. Bet you’d like that, eh? You two can play together whenever you want!” 

She blinks and looks up, completely caught on. Clever girl. “No. I wanna stay with you.” 

“Dad has to go back to work, peanut.” He says, his voice quiet as he wills the sinew of his chest to pull tight and not let him weep in front of her. “I’ll phone and visit just like before. Won’t be hardly any different. You like Kaya’s mom and dad, right? You’ll have lots of fun over there.” 

“No!” The tears well up in her eyes and she grips his arm with petite fierceness, brown corduroy overalls slipping down her slim, trembling shoulders. “No, I’m going with you! You said I could, you said!” 

“When you were older, I meant.” Yasopp manages to keep his voice level. He hadn’t expected that promise to come back and bite him. He’d told her when she was older, when she was done school, if she wanted to get a passport and join him she could, if she really wanted that life. “You’re too little, yet. There’s no school on the ship. No Kaya. No park. You gotta stay here-“ 

“I don’t wanna go to school!” She shakes her head, tears flowing freely and cracking his heart wide open. “I wanna go with you! I’ll be good! I’ll do chores and everything! _Don’t leave me!_ ” 

There it is, the one request Banchina had never made of him. Because she was too kind, too forgiving, and look what he had given her in return. 

He takes Usopp’s tiny hands in his and squeezes hard, too hard, holding her back from thrashing and using every ounce of his strength to shield his own emotions as he looks her in the eye. “Usopp, listen to me. I have to go back to work, and I can’t take you with me. You have to stay here and be a good girl, okay? It’s for the best.” 

A weaker, more pathetically parental line there never was, but it sinks into Usopp. She stills, looks up at him with confused, empty eyes. Resignation. What an awful look on a kid. “…Okay.” 

His tongue tastes like iron as he releases her hands. “That’s my brave girl. I’ll be back before ya know it.” 

She looks down for a moment, then pulls her pink, character-print comforter back and promptly crawls under it, a distant note in her tiny, squeaky voice. “I’m going to bed now, night night.” 

He laughs, weak and without humour. “Peanut, you haven’t even had dinner yet. C’mon, now.” 

“I’m not hungry and my head hurts.” She replies, simply and without any room for response. A temper tantrum, he expected. A full out, justified howling rage at the unfair and unjust situation he had placed her in. But to be shut out, given up on by a second grader? Unexpected, but also right. Her mother had been taken from her, and now he was abandoning her. He deserved no other response. 

“Alright.” He rubs her back quickly, his voice beginning to creak. “You get hungry, you just come out and I’ll make ya something. Okay?” 

“’Kay,” from under the covers, and nothing more. He leaves her to her private grief, burying himself in the couch cushions and indulging his own. 

*** 

Eventually all the papers get signed, things get given away, and he gives Usopp one last, uncomfortable hug at the train station. He’s stayed for- how many months? He isn’t quite sure. Shanks has been more than generous, paying him while he’s been on “bereavement leave,” as Benn’s records state, but he can’t keep asking for handouts. 

Fate isn’t quite done screwing them over yet, it seems. In the space between his last phone call from Syrup Village and him reaching the ship, Shanks had gone for a drink in his beloved seaside town and managed to end up throwing himself in front of a goddamn bus to save a little kid about Usopp’s age. 

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that.” Yasopp drawls, his voice shaking slightly as he leans on the rough plastic handles on the side of the bed, careful not to nudge any of the wires or tubes leading into his captain’s body. “Leave you alone for a goddamn minute and you wind up half-dead.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, I’m fine.” Shanks grins, though his skin is tinged grey and his eyes look sunken in. The complex dressing where his left arm used to be has spots of dried blood, and Yasopp makes himself look away “Gambled on the future and won. Besides, I’ve still got one. Really, how many more do you need?” 

Yasopp shakes his head and snorts. “Pretty sure that’s your morphine drip talking.” 

“Nah, I haven’t pressed the button in-“ Shanks pauses for a solid minute, regarding the bag with a furrowed brow. “A while. Anyway, they put all the blood back into me. I’m fine, I’ll be out of here in no time.” 

“Arrogant pain in the ass.” 

“And how!” Shanks flashes him a grin, cheeky as ever if a bit limp. Then his face softens into downturned lines. “Hey, how are you holding up? Is your little anklebiter alright?” 

“Not really.” He sighs, folding his arms tighter against himself. “But it can’t be helped. It’ll get easier with time, or something. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Maybe you should stay.” Shanks murmurs, his voice rough. “She needs a parent in her life.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Yasopp snorts, looking away. “I can’t stay and she can’t go. This is her home, she needs- routine, normal stuff. Less bullshit than she’s already dealing with. That’s all I can give her now.” 

“There’s channels you could go through.” Shanks shifts up in the bed, wincing a bit. “I’ve got connections, maybe if I make some calls-“ 

“Shut up, just shut up, okay? Shut up.” His teeth clench and his fists shake, fingernails digging into his palms. “There’s not a goddamned thing I can do to make this better, least of all sticking around and making her life shittier than it already is. I need to look after her, and if you won’t let me do that, then you better damn well tell me right now so I can go find something else!” 

Yasopp covers his face with his hands and breathes deeply for a few minutes. Something about lying on the floor and never getting up seems awfully appealing right now. 

Shanks speaks first, his voice lower than before. “I never said I was firing you.” 

“I know, I know,” Yasopp rubs his eyes hard enough for them to hurt. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling at you. Just- fuck, it would be great if life could stop kicking everything in the ass for like two seconds.” 

“She’s a bitch that way.” Shanks snickers, then raises his good arm to tap Yasopp’s elbow and catch his attention, glinting eyes gone hard. “You always have a place on my ship, no matter what happens. Understood?” 

“Loud and clear.” Yasopp clutches his friend’s hand, mindful of the tubes, his throat tightening at the unfamiliar weakness in the grip. He leans down and briefly presses his forehead against Shanks’, his iconic hat no longer an obstacle. “You’re a good man, Cap. Don’t you fucking go and almost die on us again, alright?” 

“So are you.” Shanks’ eyes lighten as his face splits into a grin again. “And no promises.” 

“Smart-mouthed pain in the ass.” Yasopp snipes, standing back up. Their eyes flick over when the curtain around the bed is pulled open, revealing a sharp-featured man wearing a neat black suit with wine-coloured trim and an expression of mild surprise, his long fingers tight around a small bundle of gift shop flowers. 

“Aw, Hawky’s here just in time for my sponge bath!” Shanks’ grin turns bright and lecherous. “Punctual as always, what a guy!” 

Mihawk assumes the glare of a wet cat. “My apologies for intruding, I’ll step out.” 

“Nah, I was just leaving.” He touches Shanks’ shoulder through the rough fabric of the hospital gown. “Meet you back at the ship, eh?” 

“Damn right you will.” Shanks smiles, a fierceness shining in his eyes, and Yasopp isn’t worried anymore. 

He strolls out of the hospital room, elbowing Mihawk on his way by with an exaggerated smile and a wink. “He’s all yours!” 

Mihawk looks pinched, but takes his spot at the side of the bed. Yasopp whistles his way down the hall, rides the elevator, and finally steps out into bright summer sun. 

Everything seems dimmed, the vibrance washed out of all the decorated shopfronts and city gardens around him. He feels no pull to go anywhere, not even to the sea, sloshing at the harbour a few blocks away. It feels like there’s nothing to him, like he’s held together by dandelion seeds. If he wasn’t expected somewhere, he might just come apart and disappear. 

He breathes, makes himself take a step, then another, towards the docks and back to work. 

*** 

He stays away, as promised. Funneling his earnings into an account for Usopp’s day-to-day needs and a locked education fund. Splurging a little on birthday and Christmas care packages. Not visiting except for briefly at Usopp’s graduations, he couldn’t miss those for the world. Merry, though frequently indignant at Usopp’s pranks and tale-telling, is as generous in his care as Kaya’s parents were in life. 

Usopp grows up, lanky like him but with Banchina’s wits well intact. Gets a bunch of scholarships and packs himself off to university in a big city, which causes Yasopp no small amount of worry. Thought he’s somewhat relieved when he soon ends up moving out of the dorms and in with the three little brats who used to hang around Makino’s place on the coast until they got chased back home by that grouchy old police chief. 

“You kids had any wild parties yet?” Yasopp asks from a hostel common room in Istanbul, headphones plugged into a beat-up, borrowed laptop, after being given a grainy video tour of Usopp’s new room. 

“Hah, none yet.” Usopp’s face comes back on screen. He’s still skinny as hell, but he’s smiling. That’s a good sign. “Going to a comic convention with Luffy next weekend, though. Is that wild and crazy enough for you?” 

“With that kid, it might just be.” He laughs, propping his chin on his hand. “Be safe, okay? Lock your door, pour your own drinks, use condoms, all that good stuff.” 

“Daaaaad,” Usopp whines, his voice cracking as he covers his face melodramatically. “Can you not, please?” 

Yasopp laughs, the mic crackling in his own earbuds. “Just looking out for you, peanut. I gotta go, love you. I’ll message later before we leave town.” 

“Stop calling me that, love you too. Bye!” Usopp flaps his hand so fast it becomes a motion blur on the screen before it clicks to black. The video chat screen reloads as Yasopp idly drums his fingers, pondering if he should head to bed or out for a drink. He rarely has anywhere to be when he hangs up. He just fears leaving enough silence for the other shoe to drop, for Usopp to finally confront him. He wants to hang on to his last link into Usopp’s life for as long as possible. Once a spineless bastard, always a spineless bastard. 

To his dismay, Usopp seems to have inherited a bit of that side of him. Despite careful prodding and assurances of support, Usopp’s updates are relentlessly positive, apart from snarking about exams, annoying classmates, and the like. He gets more truthful updates from Shanks through Luffy. Concerning as hell, but out of his reach once they’re already over. His boy is nothing if not an expert in the artful dodge. 

The background hum of his worries reduces somewhat when Usopp finds himself a nice boyfriend and seems to gain an extra spring in his step, a little more incentive to stop and relax sometimes. Someone to look after him, that’s just what he needs. It’s perfect, until the poor kid gets kidnapped out of the country in the most spectacular display of what-the-fuckery Yasopp’s ever seen. 

He stumbles out of the wheelhouse, ear itching from an hours-long phone call filled with tears and shaky comfort. He finds Shanks waiting for him with a rare frown. “I’ve been keeping up with it on the news. Goddamn.” 

“You said it.” Yasopp slumps against the wall and sits down in a squat, his knees cracking loudly. “If there was any damn thing I could do- My boy’s at wit’s end, and that kid- he’s a good guy, he doesn’t deserve this- God, I didn’t even know what to say. I’m useless.” 

“We all are.” Shanks slumps down beside him, quiet for a moment. “Did he mention anything about Luffy’s mother getting involved?” 

“I think he said something about his parents, so I assume that means both. Why?” 

Shanks’ smile turns strange, the edges razor-sharp while his eyes stay soft. “They’ll get him, don’t worry.” 

Shanks is right, somehow. He’s not sure of the who, what, why, or how, but the kid gets to go home, scarred but still standing. The group sticks together, and the two boys lean on each other while finding their way. It makes him feel so proud, and so incredibly grateful for the opportunity to laugh in Sanji’s well-groomed face when he video-calls to ask for his blessing. 

He can’t breeze in and out this time. The kids are drowning in work and trying to put this ridiculous wedding together (He supposes when you’re friends with a kid like Luffy, you get to know a lot of people and you can’t play favourites with invitations). Even Shanks, never offering a comment on his decision since that day, nods approvingly when Yasopp goes to put in for a few months off. 

Usopp’s fiancé won’t let him cook, but he tries to clean up, help out where he can, and get the poor, overstressed brats out of the house as often as possible. Under their exhaustion, they’re glowing with excitement. So earnestly happy to get married each other. It’s too much, really. His boys are just too damn adorable for their own good. 

A few days before the wedding, Yasopp and Usopp take the morning train down to Syrup Village. Usopp on his computer the whole time fighting with fonts on the place cards (“Can’t people just sit wherever there’s room?” “Hah! You have no idea how deeply I wish it were that simple.”). They’re heading back to the city after Kaya’s done her shift at the hospital, but first, they have a stop to make. 

Usopp parks Merry’s borrowed landscaping truck just outside the old, expansive cemetery and starts typing something on his phone. “You go up first. I gotta answer a couple emails. I’ll just be a couple minutes.” 

Another dodge, but one Yasopp appreciates. He leaves the flowers in the truck in turn, so when Usopp approaches he has an excuse to hurry back and give the kid a few moments alone. 

Can’t be avoided forever, though. They’re soon kneeling side by side in front of the headstone, the turned earth long grown over into flat grass, blending in with the rest. They sit in mute reverence for a while, the afternoon sun on their backs. Yasopp isn’t a man of set beliefs. He doesn’t imagine Banchina’s ghost slumbering beneath them. But he likes to think that she’s resting in a Somewhere, and he hopes that the Somewhere is a nice place. A Somewhere he might end up in some day, and find a familiar smile waiting for him. Not that he deserves it anymore. 

“Y’know,” Yasopp says after a time, his voice catching. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of dark, expensive beer he’d picked up when they’d stopped in Cape Town to wait out a storm. “Your mother once told me she wanted me to drink a toast to her at her grave.” He leaves the ‘if you outlive me’ bit off the end. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Usopp chuckles, his voice a little deeper than a moment ago as he watches Yasopp crack open the bottle and take a swig. “Was it because of how you proposed?”

“Maybe. It was the proposal of the century, after all. Deserves some memorializing.” He chuckles, sweeping a thumb over his bottom lip and pausing. “Shit, is it illegal to drink in public here? I forget.” 

“Not if you don’t get caught.” Usopp swipes the bottle from him and drinks a mouthful himself, handing it back with a grin. 

Yasopp grins in turn. “That’s my boy.” 

They sit a while longer, the sun dipping lower and lower. The tree behind the headstone has grown tall and girthy, a maple by the points of the leaves. He dusts off the inset letters on the headstone with his fingers, calluses catching on the stone. Her name, years, and a quote from one of her favourite books. She used to read out loud a lot when she was pregnant, a lot of poetry for its musicality, said it was good for the baby. He’d lie beside her and listen, sometimes nodding off and sometimes teasing her away from the book. 

“I usually come here around her birthday.” Usopp says, as much to the air as to him. “I thought it was gross and muddy all the time, but it’s actually really nice here.” 

“Yeah,” Yasopp replies, staring out at the long shadows cast over rolling hills by stone and trees, the breeze lifting his dreads just slightly. “It really is.” 

Kaya’s not done her shift till nine, so they ride around a bit, grab dinner from a drive-thru (“You actually have fast food here now?” “I know! I swear like three teenagers work there, they just hire a new one every time one graduates. It’s like, burger purgatory.”), and loop through the long country roads with the windows down and the music cranked. 

Usopp gets laughing at one of Yasopp’s failed falsetto notes, barely hanging on to the wheel as they swing around the corner onto a backroad. He looks over at him with a fond smile. “Geez, it’s so good to have you here. Wish you could visit more often.” 

Yasopp heart drops into his stomach as he leans back, his right foot up on the dashboard. “Yeah, but-“ 

“Money, I know.” Still the resigned tone in his voice, unchanged from when Yasopp first left him. 

“That too, yeah.” 

“That too?” Usopp says after a pause, suspicion creeping into his dark eyes. “That too, in addition to what?” 

“Well, you know,” Yasopp’s swift tongue ties itself into a knot. “Nevermind, s’not important.” 

Usopp abruptly pulls over, throwing the truck into park just at the edge of a gas station. The engine shudders to a halt and he turns, his fingers tight on the steering wheel and lips pulled thin. “No, I don’t know, but I do mind and it probably is important. What haven’t you told me?” 

“It’s not a matter of not telling you something.” Yasopp sighs, scratching the back of his neck and irritating the skin there. “Kiddo, we don’t have to do this right now. The next few days-“ 

“Will be ten times more stressful if I spend them wondering about the possible meaning of what you just said. Spill, I’m not kidding.” 

Yasopp swallows hard and turns away from the overwhelming familiarity of Usopp’s agitated expression. “I knew you wouldn’t want me around too often, it’d just make you upset. That’s all I meant, no big secret.” 

“Is that your way of saying you stayed away on purpose?” Usopp’s voice runs colder by the second. “That you could’ve come more often, but you didn’t? That’s what I’m hearing, but I really, really hope that’s not what you mean.” 

Yasopp huffs a hard sigh through his nose, scaring off a small gnat floating in through the truck window, his ribs seizing up painfully. “It was better for you, that way.” 

“No, it wasn’t!” Yasopp wheels around when Usopp slams his fists against the dashboard, finding himself caught in a too-recognizable stare of absolute rage that he’d only received a few times, when he’d well and truly fucked up. “What the hell kind of logic is that? ‘Well, you’re down one parent, so I’ll throw in the second one for free?’” 

“Usopp, I thought you knew-“ 

“No, why would I know?” Usopp shouts, his voice echoing in the cab. “You always made it sound like it was about work, about money, and now you’re trying to convince me that you ditched me for my own good! Are you kidding me right now? Is this supposed to be a joke?” 

“No, of course not, I didn’t mean-“ Yasopp digs his fingers against the skin of his palm, feeling heat prickle under his skin. “I just- couldn’t stay here after that.” 

“Dad, I miss Mom too, but it’s been twenty goddamn years. Some of us had to move on.” Usopp snarls, arms locked tightly around him. “I call bullshit, there’s no way that’s your reason.” 

“Yes it is, because it was my goddamn fault! You know that!” Yasopp pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. He tries to rein in the anger, it’s only for him, he can’t let it hurt Usopp. “If I had been there in the first place, you’d still have a mom! So what the hell kind of good would it have done to hang around after that? At least- at least if I was gone, you might not hate me as much. Clearly that hasn’t worked out, either!” 

Usopp’s voice is small, the previous fury subdued, but still audibly hurt. “…That’s why you stopped coming home?” 

Yasopp sucks in a deep breath, more of a pained wheeze than anything, and turns back towards the window to stare blankly at the shadowy maple forest across the road. “I’m sorry you got stuck with the worst of us. You deserve better.” 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Usopp’s reply comes as an exasperated groan. “You’re even worse than Sanji!” 

Yasopp glances back, curiosity oiling the creak in his voice. “What do you-“ 

“At least Sanji whips himself for stuff that’s like, kind of vaguely rooted in reality? But you’ve held Mom’s stubbornness against yourself for-” Usopp cuts himself off with another groan, propping his elbows on the steering wheel and burying his face in his hands. “I don’t like what this says about me on a psychological level, I really don’t.” 

Yasopp’s jaw works, unsure of how to respond. “You alright there, kiddo?” 

“Somewhat, yes.” Usopp drags his hands down his face, pulling the skin taut and looking over at him. “I just- Jesus, Dad, that is some seriously long-lived guilt right there. I thought I was bad.” 

“Not like it isn’t warranted.” Yasopp’s voice crumbles again. He drags the edge of his boot along the gritty rubber mat on the floor. The words knock together dully in his throat, scraping like rocks. “If I could’ve switched places with her, I would have. I still would. For both your sakes.” 

The silence hangs heavy for a few long moments, suffocating them. But it’s the truth, and Usopp’s old enough to deserve the honest truth. He numbly unclips his seatbelt, and Yasopp does the same, not really knowing why. 

“I- I think you should know what Mom’s last words to me were.” Usopp gulps, shifting anxiously in his seat. Yasopp flinches in confusion, but makes himself still, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. “But I’m only gonna say them once, so listen, okay?” 

When Usopp tells him, Yasopp chokes. The strangled feeling drawing tighter in his chest, everything abruptly becoming clear and shattering, splintering him with pain. To know that in her last moments, when he’d let her down the most, he was forgiven of everything- it splits the old wound wide open again. 

“Shit,” he hisses, turning tight against the door and shielding his eyes. They’re quiet for a moment or two, while Yasopp tries his hardest to stop shaking. The sun slides the last few inches below the horizon, leaving them in the dark but for the big white lights stooped over the gas station. 

“I never thought to tell you, I didn’t think it would matter.” Usopp mumbles, sounding far away and toying with the leather strap hanging off the keyring. “But for what it’s worth…I’ve always tried to live up to that. I still do. So please, don’t ever say stuff like that.” 

Another hard clench around his heart, his efforts to steady his voice nearly useless. “I’m sorry, god, I’m so, so sorry. I thought- I honestly thought you were better off without me.” He pauses to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m so stupids. Your mom always knew what to do, I relied on her too much, and when- I was so lost, with her gone, I didn’t know how-“ 

Lean but strong arms come around his neck suddenly. Tighter, more grasping and honest than the tension-strung goodbye hugs on manicured school lawns. It’s a little awkward, with Usopp leaning over the gearshift and the seats not leaving them much elbow room, but they hang on. A whimper escapes his son and he instinctively kisses his temple, as if he could still soothe him so easily. 

“Oh crap,” Usopp starts when a reminder pings on his phone. He sits back in his seat, quickly drying his eyes on his knuckles. “We better get going, or Kaya will send out a search party.” 

“So,” Yasopp starts, clearing his throat in the silence as they buckle up and pull back onto the road. “You don’t hate me?” 

“Of course not, I never did!” Usopp snaps, and then sighs, quickly massaging the bridge of his nose. He’d forgotten his glasses at home, and Yasopp wonders if he’s developing a headache. “I’m pissed off, and I’m gonna be pissed off for a while because there’s parts of my life that you should have been there for, but we can’t change that now. I’ll get past it, I just need time.” 

“Mm, that’s fair.” Yasopp sighs, replacing his foot on the dashboard. “Just- god, I really can’t tell you how sorry I am.” 

“I believe you, it’s okay.” Usopp blesses him with a small, sad smile. “I know you were hurting too. And you had to handle it alone.” He pauses, chews the inside of his cheek as they take a steep curve. “I know it’s a lot easier to take stuff like that onto yourself. It makes more sense when it’s your fault. But it doesn’t actually accomplish anything, it just makes everything suck even more.” 

“Christ, you’re so much smarter than I was at your age.” Yasopp huffs, shaking his head. “And I get what you’re saying, but-“ 

“No buts, alright? Resenting yourself doesn’t make things better for you, me, or Mom, it never did.” Usopp’s shoulders raise as he inhales deeply. “All I need you to do is be around more often, if you can? Spend Christmas with us or something. Not like you need to send me money anymore, I’m sure you can manage a few plane tickets.” 

“I definitely can, if that’s what you want.” Yasopp feels warmth filling his chest and turning up the corners of his mouth. Tears still threaten, but he puts them away for now. He can’t waste another second like that, not when he’s here. “Won’t have as much to spend at your online store thing, though. That’ll be a shame.” 

“Online- Oh my god, have you been buying my comics?” Usopp barks out a laugh, sounding like himself again and almost taking a corner too sharp. “I didn’t know you were interested in the other ones. Geez, Dad, I can send you those for free!” 

“Of course I am! A man cannot thrive on Sogeking alone.” Yasopp laughs fondly at the self-conscious blush on Usopp’s cheeks. “I like your sketchbooks and print things, too. You’ve got a whole gallery’s worth of good stuff on your blogs.” 

“Aw, thanks, I- wait,” Usopp’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking over nervously. “Did you say blogs, plural?” 

“Yeah, took me a bit to find your other one.” Yasopp scratches the stubble on his chin. “Makes sense to keep ‘em separate, some of your Sogeking fans seem kinda young. I really liked your charity calendar, though. All those figure drawing classes sure paid off, eh?” 

“Noooooooo,” Usopp squeaks, his concern morphing into abject horror as they rumble towards the mansion. “Dad, you have to promise me to never look at that one again. Just forget you ever saw it. Actually, make me forget you ever saw it too, please.” 

“Kiddo, relax. We didn’t actually find you on a deserted island. I know what naked women look like.” 

“ _Auuuugh_.” 

Usopp’s despair is briefly forgotten when they reach the mansion and meet up with Kaya. She looks less wan than she did as a child, definitely tired but terribly professional in her hospital whites. They load up into her car and she nods off almost immediately in the backseat, not even rousing when they stop to grab coffee for the long drive home. 

“I’ll pay,” Yasopp passes his son a few bills, checking that they’re the right currency before handing them over. 

“Oh, thanks.” Usopp takes them distractedly, reading something on his phone as they idle in the surprisingly long line. 

“The wife texting you again?” 

“Yeah, just making sure we’re alive and complaining about Zoro messing up the pantry, again.” 

“Ah,” Yasopp hums in reply, flicking his thumbnail over the rough plastic of the door handle. “Hey, about that thing you said earlier, is he doing okay?” 

“Eh? Oh, oh yeah, of course.” Usopp passes the money to the sugar-voiced young girl at the window and unsuccessfully tries to give Yasopp back the change. “But, just between you and me, Sanji had more baggage than an airport before the uh, Vinsmoke thing. He’s still working on it. It’s just hard to see him get so down on himself sometimes.” 

“But you two are still doing alright, though?” Yasopp likes the kid, but he’s been scrutinizing him carefully since he arrived. Sanji’s passed all the tests so far, but Usopp’s opinion always holds final approval. 

“Oh yeah! He still texts me poetry quotes on his smoke breaks to let me know he’s thinking of me. I mean full-on Neruda verses, like we started going out two weeks ago.” 

“Oh my _god_.” 

“I know,” Usopp grins unabashedly, passing the coffee and snacks off to Yasopp and making for the highway. “He’s super gross, I love him. Our counsellor can’t wait to see our wedding photos, so that must be a good sign.” 

“Mutual grossness is the foundation of a good marriage, as the ancient proverb goes.” Yasopp grins back, slipping their drinks safely into the cup-holders. “So you got one of those pre-marital therapists?” 

“Nah, we see the same counsellor so she just booked us some sessions together.” Usopp scratches his neck and yawns, the tall streetlights along the highway flickering through the dark interior of the car. “It was awkward at first, but now it’s kinda nice.” 

“Oh, you’re still going?” Yasopp methodically tears the paper off his blueberry muffin. “What for?” 

“Same reason I don’t skip leg day. It sucks sometimes, but it only works if you keep up with it.” Usopp throws him an incredulous expression. “I’m not concealing any deep psychological traumas, relax.” 

“S’hard to tell with you sometimes.” Yasopp mutters, a regrettably serious note in his voice. “You almost dropped out of school and I had to find out from Shanks.” 

“Er, well,” Usopp nervously sips on his double-double, hissing when it burns his tongue. “I mean, that was years ago, and there were a lot of- there was a lot of stuff going on. I wasn’t actually going to- I just left for a bit because stuff had built up and- I didn’t really know how to be their friend after that, so I was gonna move out and switch to a new college. That’s all. I couldn’t tell you that, and besides, it all got resolved in the end.” 

“Sure you could’ve.” Yasopp murmurs, folding the excess wax paper into a half-assed paper crane. “Not sure if I could’ve helped, but I could have listened, at least. You called me when Sanji got taken.” 

“Well yeah, but that wasn’t my fault. I can’t just call you up and be like ‘Hey, wanna hear this incredibly stupid, awful thing I did?’” 

“Sure you can, that’s what parents are for.” Yasopp tears off a chunk of his muffin, purple juice sticking to his fingertips, and tosses it in his mouth. “You could go to jail for robbing fifty banks and I’d bring you a cake with a file in it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Usopp chuckles, changing lanes to get around a transport truck. His lips pull thin as he continues, his voice lowered. “To be honest, I’m kinda mad at Luffy for even telling Shanks about that. I know I shouldn’t be, but I never wanted you to know. He wouldn’t have been thinking about that, but, yeah. It’s whatever.” 

Yasopp chews thoughtfully before responding. “Why didn’t you want me to know? It’s ancient history now, I can’t even offer dubious paternal advice on it.” 

“Heh, yeah, well,” Usopp gulps, staring ahead with wide, too-young eyes before speaking in a rush. “I just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, that’s all.” 

Yasopp is hit with a wave of potential responses and nearly trips over his tongue trying to get one out. “Is it- is that why you keep stuff from me?” 

“It’s not a matter of keeping stuff from you,” Usopp taps his finger rapidly against the wheel, still not looking over. “You and Mom were so amazing, and you gave me so much- I can’t let myself slip up like that. I want to be worth- all of that. It’s bad enough when everybody else watches me fuck up, I don’t want you to see it too.” 

Yasopp feels his throat tighten as he watches Usopp fidget, his teeth in his bottom lip. “See, this is where I should have been around more. I should tell you more often how proud I am of you-“ 

“You do, all the time. But that’s because I didn’t-“ 

“Let me finish, is what ya didn’t do.” Yasopp places a tentative hand on Usopp’s shoulder. “I’d tell you when you came running to me with a good mark or an award or something. I should’ve been telling you in between, when you weren’t asking to hear it.” 

“Like when?” Usopp glances over with a genuinely befuddled expression, grabbing blindly for his coffee. 

“Usopp, look at all the great people you’ve got in your life. Look how hard you worked to be where you are, and hell, look at what you and Mister Prince Charming have been through together.” Yasopp shakes his head fondly, his voice catching despite his efforts. “That’s what makes me proud of you. You’re everything we wanted you to be, and ten times braver than I ever was.” 

“Dad,” Usopp manages, his voice thick as his nose and eyes run. He swipes at them, his ragged armband taking the damage. “Jeez, do you have to do this while I’m driving?” 

“Heh, sorry.” Yasopp reaches up to swipe a stray tear off his son’s cheek and shifts back into his seat. “No more heavy stuff for today, promise. How ‘bout I tell you something funny instead?” 

Usopp hiccups, the tip of his nose flushed but his voice beginning to steady. “Can you tell me the one about the crocodile again? I like that one.” 

“Heh, that is funny, because your mom didn’t like it at all.” Yasopp laughs and puts his foot up on the dash, glancing back to make sure Kaya’s still asleep. “Alright so, we take you to the old zoo in the next town when you were- two? Three? Whatever the age is you get free admission, you were slightly older than that, but you were small, so we got away with it. You wanted to go see the big python, so…” 

The conversation winds along a few different paths before giving way to the quiet hum of the radio. Yasopp watches out the window as they fly past small towns and miles of farmland, arriving at Kaya’s hotel just as they’re developing white line fever. 

Finally home, they yawn their way inside and find Sanji at the kitchen table, wrapped in his thin robe and folding freshly printed place cards. He stands to share a quick, affectionate peck with Usopp, no longer shy in Yasopp’s presence. “I put the kettle on when I saw you pull up, it’ll be ready in a minute. Did you eat?” 

“Yeah, we stopped and grabbed fries and stuff.” 

“Ugh, do you know what they put in the grease at those places? You might as well-“ 

“Eat gum off the sidewalk. Fast food is a terrific blight upon this world which I am now complicit in. Also, I’m destroying all of my organs with every bite. I know the spiel.” 

“I don’t have a spiel, and I don’t sound like that.” 

“You absolutely do. Where’s Luffy and Zoro?” 

“Hell if I know. Luffy said something about a street art jam, and I decided the less I knew, the less I’d have to testify about later.” 

“Aw, sounds fun. Did Nami call…” 

Their voices trail away as Yasopp shuffles into the guest bedroom. He grabs his smokes and meanders back out to the bench on the front porch. Not much to look at from their place, just more townhouses like theirs. But at night, you can hear the sloshy tides of the bay, just a few rows out of sight. 

“Mind if I join you?” Sanji pushes open the screen door, his own cigarette dangling from his teeth. 

“Sure thing, need a light?”

Sanji bends when Yasopp flicks his lighter, taking a long drag. “Thanks. Shit, I really need this right now. Every time I close my eyes I see cardstock and organza.” 

“You did this to yourselves.” Yasopp laughs quietly, taking a long puff from his own. 

“I know,” Sanji exhales. He pulls his robe tighter over his loose t-shirt and shorts. A determined light shines from behind his reading glasses. “It’ll be worth it in the end.” 

Usopp appears, changed into bright green pajama shorts and tightly clutching his dragon-shaped cup. “Can I join the cool kid table? It’s muggy inside.” 

“It is, I hope it lets up soon.” Sanji scoots over so Usopp can sit in the middle, then leans on his shoulder and folds his long legs up tight, cigarette held carefully away from fabric and skin. 

They sit quietly, comfortable in the dark, slightly cooler relief of mostly-fresh night air. Yasopp watches them out of the corner of his eye. Sanji, with his light blue robe, pale skin, and blonde hair pulled into a loose braid over his shoulder, resembles a clutch of seashells on a child’s souvenir shelf, sharp-edged and fragile. Usopp’s arm wraps protectively around him, the other lifting his mug for long sips of tea. His hair’s down and his tank top hangs off one shoulder. Dark circles are faintly visible under his eyes, which crinkle so fondly at the corners when he looks down at Sanji’s increasingly-limp form. 

Yasopp reaches over, lightly resting his scarred-up hand on the back of Usopp’s head for a moment, ruffling his curls affectionately. Usopp looks over and smiles back at him, no trace of resentment or anger. Just the sweet, pleased expression and sagging posture of someone content to be where they are. 

Yasopp smiles back, and leaves his hand there. They sit for some time, watching their smoke and steam curl into the night air. He breathes in deep and catches something soft on the scent of the wind. 

 

 _”We should be careful of each other, we should be kind, while there is still time.” The Mower,_ Philip Larkin

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY FINISHED YAY  
> Part of why I kept picking this fic up and putting it down was because I really wanted to do it right. Setting part of the story in South Africa (Johannesburg, I don't think it gets mentioned by name) was inspired by a tumblr post which I have very unfortunately lost the link to (if anyone knows it, please pass it on! It was an excellent post and I want to give credit), discussing the real-world nationalities of the Straw Hats. I very much agree with the cringe of giving Usopp's nationality as "Africa" (Oda, dude, come ONNNN), and I enjoyed their headcanon of Usopp being of South African descent as it's an extremely diverse country and fits well. I wanted to keep with that idea, but as someone who has only knows the country through reading, I didn't want to come off as appropriative or painfully ignorant (I also leave political/historical issues out of all my fics for the most part, because I don't think fanfic is necessarily the best place to discuss very real issues). Feel free to correct if I have! I kept the focus of the story on Yasopp and Banchina because it's about them, their heritage is just one part of their story.  
> On a related note re: heritage and headcanons, I see Banchina as being of primarily Zulu descent, and Yasopp as the product of a Lebanese father and a Xhosa-Zulu mother (Yasopp spent a lot of time with his Xhosa grandmother as a kid, and she's a big influence on his parenting style). I've got a ton of headcanons about their parents and childhoods that I probably won't write but keep in my head all the same. I think of Usopp as the result of many generations of tight bonds and love, all of which contributed to his current adorable noodle self.  
> Re: language headcanons: I didn't want to put little tags around everything to indicate code-switching, but a number of characters are polyglots. Banchina's fluent in Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho, Tswana, Afrikaans, and English (she picks up a smidge of French in Canada as well), Yasopp's speaks the same, plus Portuguese, Arabic, French, Spanish, and he can at least order a sandwich in several other languages (by the time he's middle-aged, that is). Their first conversation is in Zulu because that's what Banchina speaks most often at home/with friends and what she instinctively yells at him. Shanks was born and raised in Brazil, and taught Yasopp Portuguese in exchange for Afrikaans lessons. Portuguese and English are the common languages of the Red Force crew, but they switch to English when Banchina's around. Usopp was raised speaking Zulu and Xhosa at home, but the influence of English language cartoons and school unfortunately won out after Banchina's death. He inherited their linguistic abilities and excelled at French in school but unfortunately lost those languages as he grew up, which he regrets (but maybe he'll pick it up again! Never too late for the great Captain Usopp to learn something new/old).  
> Most of the other Straw Hats are at least bi-lingual in this 'verse also, next part will feature more of them, I promise!  
> Shout-out to Lucy Bellwood's comics for info on modern tall ship sailing. It's a thing, it's great
> 
> Pedantic note re: alcohol: The sexytimes Banchina and Yasopp enjoyed after the bar were hella consensual (both have decent alcohol tolerances and sobered up quite a bit on the way home) and Usopp only had a mouthful of beer before driving. I hate to sound patronizing, but those are two subjects I don't mess around with. Don't operate machines and/or genitals while drunk, kids. 
> 
> Character sidebars: Banchina is bisexual/biromantic but isn't super attached to/interested in labels, and Yasopp is demisexual/into lots of people aesthetically, but hasn't heard the term and doesn't give it much thought. Also I feel super weird giving characters surnames if they don't have canonical ones/titles that can be converted to surnames (no disrespect to anyone who chooses to! It's just a preference of mine), but I do think of Yasopp's (and subsequently Banchina's, Usopp's, and Sanji's) surname as Youssef, both for meaning and how it sounds with their first names. Also, Yasopp is twenty when he meets Banchina, insert cradle-robbing joke here. 
> 
> Last note, re: Banchina's death. I was reading about Jim Henson's death around the time I started writing this, how he essentially died of a common strep infection because he didn't want to bother anyone and that's what took Banchina's life as well. I was worried it would come off as odd because of her medical background, but anyone who has medical folks in their life know they are the absolute worst for going to the doctor/seeking treatment/etc. Even when it comes to seemingly minor illnesses, take care of yourself, friends <3 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this! It was fun writing the lives of the parents of a character before and after that character is born. Thank you so much for reading, and take care <3!


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